


Right In Two

by Perdition



Category: Dark Tower - King, Devil May Cry
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-27
Updated: 2010-01-27
Packaged: 2017-10-06 18:07:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/56379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Perdition/pseuds/Perdition
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Crossover AU.  Vergil, stuck in a tiny, rundown city in End-World, decides to investigate the speaking demon rings he's heard about to gain information on the Dark Tower.  He just didn't know what the payment for that information would be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Right In Two

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a game I rp Vergil in, which is set in the world(s) of the Dark Tower.

He'd had enough of being idle.

The days flowed, one into the next, with little to break life from the monotonous grind of sleeping, freezing, starving, and the pervasive irritable mood that would not leave him. True, there was the monster that bore first his father's, and then his brother's, faces, and his amulet had been snatched away, and there of course had been the monsters invading the safe haven of the town, but beyond that...

Beyond that there was only a daily grind of surviving to wake the next morning.

He still didn't have a shirt, and his jacket was buttoned to the throat as he gathered Yamato and bent to scratch Rusty with a detached affection behind the ears before opening the door of the apartment he shared with Lady and stepping out. He was going to do something about that monotony. The longer he allowed himself to remain suspended in a sense of Purgatory, the longer it would take to get things going, when he formed a final plan and put things in motion. While there was no room for errors, as his mother and Lady both were depending on him to get things right, there was also little time to waste.

This day, he planned on seeing what lay beyond the city proper; to find something of use or finally admit they were trapped in a piss poor excuse for an oasis in the middle of a desert of wasteful distruction.

He ghosted through the city as the sun peeked over the horizon, begin its daily climb and descent in the sky, the only creature, it seemed, stirring in the fridged and still morning. Details grew from the darkness as the cold sun's rays touched them. These he afforded little attention as he drifted by, reaching and leaving behind the markers of the city's edge, heading deeper into the waste they were surrounded by. He'd been told few had made this journey, and frankly...He considered that shameful. Were they all such cowards then? To afraid to face the fact that they might be truly alone in the pathetic excuse for civilization they'd formed?

Possibly. But that was their problem.

The longer he walked, the smaller the city grew over his shoulder, and finally he pushed it from his thoughts completely as it disappeared over the horizon, the light growing brighter as day truly gained a firm grasp on the world. Ahead lay a ring of stones - a place of the so-called 'speaking demons', and that was to be his first stop. He wanted to see exactly what the demonic entities of this world had to offer, if anything at all.

His boots crunched in the dirt as he made his approach, Yamato in one hand, the other hangling loosely at his side, as he drew close, before coming to a halt outside of the ring formed by the stones, and he simply gazed around himself for a moment, allowing his senses to take over for his mind. There was a thrumming along his nerves - a sense of something powerful - and a corner of his mouth twitched before he made those last few steps over the invisible boundary of the being that resided there, whatever it may be.

And once over that line, he could feel it, rushing toward him at a breakneck pace, though he did little more than flick a glance in the direction it came from. It would be interesting, of that he had no doubt, but he wondered at the productiveness of such an action. Of confronting the demon on its own ground.

There was a howling, incoherant and angry, that pierced him through, it seemed, coming from everywhere and nowhere and only from inside his own mind, as the demon descended on him, and Yamato was ripped free and brought around, brackish black blood spattering the ground though there seemed to be no body for it to flow from. A shriek of anger and pain (this time definitely in his mind) echoed, and Yamato twitched in his hand, as more black blood sprayed in the clean morning air.

"Obviously you were never taught not to sneak up on you betters." It came out in a bored drawl, as Vergil turned away, bringing Yamato to his side. "What is your designation, demon."

_We are Legion_, came the chanted reply, a voice of many that echoed even within his own mind. _We are many, who serve the All-Seeing Eye, and the Crimson King._

One white eyebrow twitched at that. He remembered, vaguely, Zexion mentioning the Crimson King. And in truth, the red beast in questioned sounded far too much like Mundus for his liking. "Legion, eh?" He snorted, his breath a white puff in the cold air. "_Right._"

_What have you come for, human sweetmeat._ There was a moment when ghostly hands found their way inside his jacket, something akin to fingernails scratching at his flesh with almost indecent intent. When the demon next spoke, he could swear he could feel the puff of breath against his ear and neck, like that of a lover. _What form of knowledge would you barter for? And what would you barter for it?_

The claws contracted against his chest, puncturing his skin.

"You can't think it will be nearly that easy." More blood splattered the ground, as Yamato buried itself in the transparent stomach of the being, and there was a hiss of pain, before it pressed full length against him, pulling itself (_her_self, Vergil amended, feeling the press of its breasts against his chest) further up Yamato as it did so. "I'm almost willing to guess you've gotten far too complacent with easy prey wandering into your circle."

There was a soft laugh, and a flick of a tongue against his ear. _Halfbreed,_ it whispered, one unseen hand starting a downward path, the nails scraping at his stomach playfully, _We can see you clearly now. So fine, the product of human and demon interbreeding. Your thread is untrue, but so much more intriguing for it._

The hand seemed unhampered by the well fitted waistband of his pants, and he stiffened with a sharp intake of breath as it closed around him, seemingly at once colder than the breeze ruffling his hair and warmer than he'd have thought. What was worse was the fact that his body responded immediately, proving he both neglected that part of himself to the extreme and that perhaps it wasn't the demon that underestimated him.

His eyes narrowed and darkened, and Yamato was jerked upward, tearing the wound in the demon wider. "I want nothing from you except to see you die." At that, there was another laugh, before the fingers of the hand still pressed against his chest flicked over a nipple, the laugh deepening as it hardened in response.

_Now, our beautiful little halfbreed? We can give you our death. A small one, perhaps._ It dripped with lust and need, and he bared his fangs in response, black cracks forming and standing out starkly against his white skin. _A trade, pretty one. A little trade is all we ask._ The hand around him tightened, and he made a noise somewhere between a growl and a groan, unconsciously moving forward with it.

"...Not interested in-" He broke off as the unseen thumb brushed over the tip, before forcing his mind to clear. "I'm not interested in making deals with a succubus."

_Not even for knowledge of the Dark Tower?_ Unbidden, a mental image of the tower, mingled with that of Temen-ni-Gru, floated by his mind's eye, and there was a pulse in mind and body that he couldn't control.

"Tell me what you know." His voice was firm, authoritative, and he ignored the panting in his ear and the hand that stroked him with agonizing slowness, forcing his body to still and resist the urges it felt almost to the point of pain. "Then we'll discuss if it's worth payment."

_So cold._ It was almost pouted as the hand inside his jacket slid around to the back of his neck, the nails digging in. _The tower is the nexus of all worlds, all times. Every level offers something different, but not just anyone can enter._ Teeth grazed his throat teasingly, a tongue leaving a hot-cold trail from collarbone to jawline. _Only those of the line of Eld may enter, 'lest they be driven mad. And the field of roses, Can'-Ka No Rey, won't allow just any mongrel to pass. It protects the Tower._

"Protects." It wasn't a question, and he ignored the stroking, which grew more insistent and teasing by the second. "What does the tower contain." The buttons of his jacket seemed to start undoing themselves, one by one, moved by invisible fingers. The cold air raised gooseflesh across every inch of his flesh that was exposed, but to this he also paid no mind.

_Everything. Nothing. We cannot see within._ The jacket lay completely open, and while one hand continued with that slow, maddening pace, the other pushed it free of his shoulders, effectively pinning his arms in place. He'd been a bit of a fool, hadn't he? _Our eyes are blinded to everything but its weakening pulse. Black Thirteen hides it with its shadow._

Black Thirteen. That rang bells, but he couldn't place them. Once he returned to the city he would have to consult his notes. "This tower can take me home."

_We cannot say._

"Is it reachable." The hand stroking him squeezed tightly, earning a noise that he fought to keep silent, the pain in the grip tinged with exquisite pleasure he'd never admit to. "Is it reachable, from World's End."

_Not as you stand, halfbreed._ The words were purred, as the free hand began work on his pants, the button slipping free as easily as it ever had. _Not with the sea that lies between._

He considered this a moment, pushing all else aside. Then he'd find a way, wouldn't he? He had to. It was the only option available, with Dante missing and his half of the amulet with him.

_Now, our pretty little sweetmeat? We have told you all we can see and all we can know._ The zipper slid downward, and Vergil found himself holding his breath. _We have given all, and want very little in return. Lonely is our circle of stones, and your pretty white flesh is so warm._

Long seconds passed, and Vergil held his breath steady and even, despite finding sensitive parts of himself exposed to the cold air. It did little to dampen the obvious physical effects of the demon's attentions, and nails scratched lightly at the underside of that sensitive skin, and he closed his eyes, a muscle in his jaw working frantically as he fought for composure.

"Fine." The word was heavy and clipped, and the moment it left his mouth he found himself being shoved backward and down, his back colliding with the cold ground only slightly cushioned by his jacket, before a weight pressed over him, teeth gouging into the skin stretched tight across the muscles of his chest, bloody teethmarks being the only thing that signaled he wasn't alone. They traveled downward, digging into the more tender skin of his stomach, fingers pressing tightly against his ribs as the other hand finally ceased its ministrations.

He was drawn inward, where it was still that cold nothing and yet hot enough to burn him, it seemed, and more than ready as her - its - her weight settled over him and he forced his eyes to open, to attempt to see the creature clenched around him so tightly, to see the owner of the nails gouging into his chest as she started moving slightly, rocking back and forth as though testing the waters before getting too far gone.

And for a moment, as the sunlight slanted downward and a cloud passed exactly right over them, he could make out a vague, shimmery female shape propping herself over him, the suggestion of long hair tumbling down her back, a whisper of a long neck arched, head thrown back. She gaspingly laughed in his mind, before moving once in earnest, ripping a groan from him he failed to fight back, and he found himself moving with her, his hands finding by instinct her hips and forcing her down harder.

Perhaps he had neglected this sort of thing for far too long.

_Pretty little demon boy._ It was cooed, and an unseen hand brushed the hair that had fallen into his face, before that hand fisted in it and tugged. Hard. He gasped, his eyes flying open, before he arched upward, pulling himself upright as his arms slid around her totally, his own hand tangling in her invisible hair and jerking her head to the side, his teeth finding the side of her neck and breaking the unseen flesh there, as her hot sour blood filled his mouth. It was spoiled, fouled with years of sluggish and primitive ambition and lust, but he forced himself to swallow it down anyway. It was little more than a transfer of power, and if she were anything like the demons of his own world, she would be aware of that.

The hand in his hair slipped to the back of his neck, pressing his face deeper into the wound he was methodically chewing there, as she moved over him, clamping down tighter than he would have thought possible, coaxing the small pressure starting to build at the base of his spine with each thrust. She, no doubt, had millenia of experience with this sort of thing, and it showed in the way she arched her back just so, so that her hardened nipples grazed his chest with every movement.

He chewed harder, his fangs tearing at her flesh, more blood gushing into his mouth the harder her demonic heart pumped, and it ran down his chin, pooling in the crevices of his stomach and where they joined, giving outline to her her form. The pressure built, and his eyes returned to that unearthly red and black, the lines forming once more and darkening, silver starting to join the black, where his flesh started to darken. The fingers digging into her back formed claws and darkened as well.

He felt her gasp in his mind, before she moved harder and faster, her head falling forward to rest on his shoulder, and he held her tightly, meeting her rhythm with his own, his claws puncturing her flesh, and the noise she made was a mingling of pleasure and pain. All the while the weight grew heavier in his stomach.

She spasmed over him, and an inarticulate cry of completion resounded in his mind, her nails ripping his own flesh open, in some places almost to the bone.

She was gasping, when he finally found that precipice and plunged from it, and whatever noise he made was lost in a roar, as the world went bright and blue a moment, and he found himself digging in with claws and fangs and pulling. Pulling. There was a ripping sound and hot, wet, sour blood coated him from head to toe as he pulled, effectively ripping the demon apart. She gurgled, both in his ears and in his mind, before he blinked, seeing her with his demonic vision as the rest of her tumbled from him, one hand still reaching out to him, the fingers curled in a claw.

He panted, black demonic tongue running over his bloody fangs and lips, as he found her wide, hollowed eyes watching him with fading malevolent hatred, and he struck out with a clawed foot, kicking her as far from him as he could. Yamato was still lodged to the handguard in the part of her nearest to him, and one clawed hand reached for it, before drawing back, and he climbed to his feet on legs that felt rubbery, even within devil trigger. Only there did he reach for it again, yanking it free of her cooling demonic flesh before pulling the blade between his clawed fingers, ridding it of the demon's blood.

"Legion." It was snorted, in that odd double voice the demon form had. "Of course you were." Yamato was resheathed, before he dropped the trigger completely and glancing down at himself, where he blood splattered him from jaw to upper thigh. That was going to take a little explaining. He snorted again, yanking up his pants and rebuttoning them, before starting on his jacket.

"Ridiculous. But if there's a gain in finding more about this Dark Tower..." The ends justified the means. That was what he told himself as he started back toward World's End. Dignity could be sacrificed for finding a way home.


End file.
